Gypsy Girl
by Katy Ellis
Summary: Based on the Susan Kay version, covering the missing years between Giovanni and Nadir. This is the first part of a series that will continue right on till Paris and possibly after.
1. Chapter 1

He pulled off his mask and heard the gasps of faint hearted ladies as the horror of his face was revealed to the crowd. I had become part of his act, everyone loved to see a freak and no one was more of a freak than he. With his death like head he resembled a corpse rather than a human. He had spent most of his life trying to hide that face but his first spell with the gypsies had taught him what drew in the crowds and the money from their pocket and now he needed that money and few other options. He had started off with just a magic act, tricks of the eye astounding the crowds that came to see him. But they had all demanded to see behind his mask. And so he had decided to bite the bullet and incorporate it into every performance. The horror of his face drew on their pity and you could guarantee they would leave more than just hearing him sing and watch his tricks, however extraordinary he was. His act was unique and by now well known, crowds always ended their day by gravitating to his tent and occasionally the same person would come two or even three times.

For a man travelling with gypsies he lived in relative luxury, his own tent decorated with pieces of the orient held a place right at the end of the camp. In one corner lay a coffin, atop this sat a vase of lilies. When he sang, more often than not, it was the lilies that appeared to sing with his voice. A voice that could astound crowds.

Night was drawing in now and this was his last performance in this village, the camp was to move on the next day. The men and women dropped their money in a box designed for that purpose and he vegan putting away his instruments. This life had become tedious now but he had pitiful few options now, no one would want to hire a bad tempered mysterious masked man whose age was indeterminate. In truth he was not yet 20, but he had experienced things no child should ever have to and so he had grown up extremely fast, seeming to be twice his real age.

Perhaps it was time to move again. He only stayed a limited time with each gypsy camp; eventually they all turned on him and forced him out.

"Come on Marie, give us a dance." A portly man called to her, his grin revealing his uneven yellowed teeth in the light of the fire. There had already been several dances from groups of the women but Marie had not yet stood up. The call was taken up among the others gathered round the flames leaping into the night's sky.

She sighed deeply; it had not been a good day for her. The crowds unwilling to part with their hard earned money for a gypsy dancer. She was in no mood to be forcing a cheery dance this night which was what they would be expecting of her.

"Not tonight Ira, I'm too tired to be playing and dancing tonight."

"Then let us play and you dance."

"Oh yes and trust you with my violin, I don't think so." Others had their own instruments but Marie usually only danced to her own instrument; it was far superior to the cheaper instruments played by the other gypsies.

"I'll play for you." Marie stilled, as did all the others round the fire. The voice came from behind her and she slowly turned to face Erik. Very little was known of this man, he kept himself to himself and his manner as well as the mask he wore seemed to put the rest of the camp on the edge.

For a moment she hesitated, catching her lower lip between her teeth. The violin was particularly precious to her and very few were trusted to take care of it. Green eyes met amber, there was no emotion behind him but then you could never tell with Erik, he did not spend enough time in company and no one knew him.

She walked towards him, the grass rustling softly against her feet and held out the instrument. "It was my fathers." She tried to offer in explanation of her hesitancy.

The corner of his lips twitched in the smallest hint of a smile and she was reassured. She left him and walked back into the light of the fire. The flames lit her auburn hair to a bright copper and reflected in her deep green eyes as she waited.

The music started and she launched herself into it. It was unlike anything she had heard before, emotion was coaxed out of each and every note into a melancholy melody that tugged at the heard, a deep sense of love lost in the haunting melody. It was completely different to the usual tunes she danced to; a gypsy song was free with no bounds ignoring the rules of the concertos and symphonies. The music Erik played was controlled, clearly classically learned but with a strange touch of the gypsy freedom making it an entirely unique style.

She abandoned herself to the music, allowing it to mould her steps and body into an expression of such sadness that it had the watchers caught. Not a murmur or whisper was uttered, every eye riveted on the young woman gliding around the fire as though moved by some invisible spirit. They held their breath as she spun passed them, the music seeming to emanate from her, to wash over them.

She felt transported to a higher place, a place where only she and music existed, it was her life blood.

The final strains echoed around her and she came to a halt in a swirl of green velvet skirts. Background noises began to filter back to her, the crackle of the fire and the sounds of chirping crickets, as she caught her breath.

The crowd around her began to murmur as they dispersed. No applause was offered, the performance had been above that. They had all been deeply affected by what they had heard and seen, some were still silent, the memories brought back to life by the music still hovering in front of their eyes.

As Marie came back down to earth she looked across the fire at the man who had played for her and met his eyes. There was an expression there she could not read and a dizzying feeling washed over her. A spark had been lit within her and as she gazed across the jumping flames she was sure she saw the same in him. Entranced by those hypnotic eyes and the melody that still lingered in her mind she moved towards him, her skirts rustling softly around her. It grew cold outside the heat of the fire but she did not notice, lost in a world all her own. Danger lingered in the air, she could feel it and a tiny voice in her head screamed at her to run back to the safety of her own caravan but those eyes drew her on. She was in front of him now, her breath catching in her throat falling into the torrent of emotion that was suddenly revealed in the amber depths.

An instant later the violin was back in her hands and Erik was disappearing in his tent. The connection between them broken Marie shivered, feeling the cold for the first time. She was not quite sure what had happened, the whole evening felt more like a dream suspended outside of reality. Her heart thudded, danger thick in the growing darkness as the fire faded and the others disappeared into their tents, but above all else she felt an overwhelming curiosity for the man behind the mask. She hurried back to her caravan with a new determination, to find out who he was and what he hid behind that mysterious mask.


	2. Chapter 2

Erik entered his tent, pushing aside the flaps in frustration. He collapsed into a chair and rubbed a hand over his masked face. He was shaking and he couldn't believe it. Always the master of his emotions he could control himself under any situation but he had never seen anyone dance like that.

He closed his eyes and could see her still. Twisting and turning, her body contorting impossibly, a freedom in her though every movement was carefully controlled. Her hair had glinted in the firelight, rippling as she moved, seeming as alive as the fire it reflected. Green velvet skirts lifting as she spun to give a tantalizing glance of toned tanned legs.

A fire had lit inside him that refused to doused. For those few minutes nothing had existed but the gypsy girl he played for. He didn't know why he had even offered to play in the first place, he had been bored and needed entertainment but he had never expected that. Nor had he seen anyone respond do music in such a way.

He sighed deeply, perhaps he should move on sooner rather than later. But in the same instant he knew he would not. Whether he liked it or not there had been a connection wit that women and he knew she had felt it too. It had been in her eyes when she walked over to him. No woman had looked at him like that ever and suddenly he knew what power there was in the music. But only with her, even for him that playing had been on a different level. Her dancing had change the music brought out something in him that had been long buried and added a new quality to his music. He had to slay now and see it through, whatever was to happen, change was in the air, he could taste it.

The next 2 days were spent traveling and setting up in the next town. The camp was busy with the sounds of tent pegs being hammered into the ground. Those who were not busy sat watching those who worked singing old songs. Marie pulled out her violin and stroked the polished wood lovingly. Her father had taught her how to play on this instrument. She sat cross legged on the small bed in her caravan lost in happy memories of her father patiently teaching her how to draw the bow across the strings in just the right way. He had died just a few years earlier and the violin was just about all she had left of him.

Her mind drifted back to a few nights ago when a different pair of hands had held this instrument. She saw him in her dreams now, those amber eyes following her wherever she went She had an insatiable curiosity about that mask though. What lay behind that? All she could see was his mouth and those eyes that could hold you in one place till he decided to release you. She wanted to know more but she was also afraid to investigate further. She had heard rumors. She knew he took off his mask during his performance but none of the gypsies had seen his piece before and only overheard discussions of those who came out. But rumor was nothing, she wanted to know for sure. The only way she could find out would be to watch him with the rest of his audience.

Sighing she got up to stretch her legs and wander around the camp before night fell. When she appeared at her door Ira called for a song. This time she was happy to oblige. With a smile that lit her face she skipped down the steps of her caravan and set the bow to the strings and started a lively tune and for a change sang along.

"Merrily we sailed along, though the waves were plenty strong,

Down the twisting river Rhine, following a song.

Legends faded storyline tried to warn us all,

Oh they called her Loreley, careful or you'll fall."

As she sang and played she danced around the camp, smiling and winking at the men working, playfully flirting as she skipped nimbly by.

"Oh the stories we were told, quite a vision to behold,

Mysteries of the seas in her eyes of gold.

Laying on the silver stone, such a lonely sight,

Barnacles became a throne my poor Loreley"

The workers had all stopped to watch and were now clapping along to the fast rhythm, some of the women coming out of their tents with their tents to join in.

"And the winds would cry and many men would die

And all the waves would bow down to the Loreley."

Everyone was singing along now. It was one of her favorites and they had all learned the words just by hearing her play it so often.

"You would not believe your eyes, how a voice could hypnotize,

Promises are only lies from Loreley.

In a shade of mossy green, seashell in her hand

She was born the river queen, ne'er to grace the land"

Erik had come out of his tent to see what the commotion was about. What met his eyes was the gypsy girl from a few nights ago dancing and skipping around the tents, violin in hand and singing with a surprisingly sweet voice, while behind her a procession of women. Men and children skipping and singing along, some with instruments others just clapping in time with the beat. He stood with arms crossed, an unwilling smile tugging at his lips as the finished the chorus.

"Oh the song of Loreley would charm the moon right from the sky

She will get inside your mind, lovely Loreley.

When she cries 'be with me until the end of time'

You know you will ever be with your Loreley."

The procession was moving towards him now and as he looked at the gypsy she was looking at him and grinning. Feeling distinctly uncomfortable he disappeared back into the relative safety of his tent and breathed a sigh of relief as he heard them finish with aflourish and return to setting up their camp, all now in a very cheerful frame of mind.

He had long considered himself a separate from the human race, God had chosen to create him with the head of one already dead and for that he was shunned and hated. His talents were far above any mortal and he felt human rule did not govern him as it did others. But the young gypsy had made him feel distinctly human and therefore susceptible to mortal feelings and desires that he had believed to be long conquered.

He ground his teeth in frustration she was no different to any other woman. He had found the mask provoked their curiosity, he was a mystery man and therefore had a certain desirability. But as soon as the mask came away they were screaming and running away in fear.

Growling he pushed himself upright, the tent must be ready for tomorrows opening performance. The black lacquered coffin was set in one corner, a glass vase of lilies placed carefully on top. A curtain of deep purple was hung to separate the main section from his sleeping area. Beside the tent entrance a box in the same style as the coffin sat on a table for money and beside that an oriental lamp. The floor was covered with various rugs, also from the orient in shades of red and purple. There was little space for anything else, the crowds would fill what remained.

Outside fires were already being lit as the velvety darkness of night fell. Calls for Marie to play were once again echoed around the camp. The temptation to step out and play for her again was swiftly pushed aside. Why bother give into temptation when in the end it would hurt all the more when she saw beneath his mask.

Instead he pulled out paper and charcoal and began to draw, there was after all no limitations to his talents. He didn't really know what it was he was drawing, just releasing some frustration onto paper. But in the soft light of the candle it was the image of an attractive gypsy dancing round a fire that appeared on the page. In anger he screwed it up into his fist and threw it across the tent where it stayed while he began to pace. This was not good, he needed to put a stop to this, and soon.


	3. Chapter 3

The morning dawned bright and clear, a day that would only encourage people to come and see the entertainments of the gypsies despite the cold. Marie stepped from her brightly coloured caravan and smiled, perhaps for once she might make some money for herself today if the crowds were as pleasant as the morning was.

She stood on the top step, her hands on her hips as she looked round the tents. They were all pitched in neat rows to make it more inviting for the townspeople to look at the many displays and wares around the pace.

More than one fortuneteller was draping her curtains and setting out their bags of runes or cards. They were always popular, everyone always wanted to know their future, how gullible they were varied drastically. At the far end, set slightly apart from the rest of the tents was Erik's. He appeared in the tent flap as she was watching, pulling the folds aside and tyeing them back with lengths of black and gold rope. He looked up and met her eyes across the camp, over the heads of the others scurrying around. Even at this distance she could see the scowl in his eyes and she flinched at the volume of emotions that seemed to scorch her before he broke contact and disappeared. She frowned, it had been several months now since that dance around the fire and she had barely had any contact with him since then. Even so she was sure she hadn't imagined that connection between them. She felt a severe disappointment, why ignore her, what had she done to earn the distance she had seen in him?

Her brow wrinkled in thought, she knew nothing of him so why feel disappointment? She had no answer to that except she felt a connection however small.

* * *

No matter, it was too beautiful a day to worry about such things. People were already filtering into the camp, people who could have some spare change in their pockets to spare for a gypsy dancer.

It was late afternoon, dusk was just starting to close in and as usual most people had gravitated towards Erik's tent.

For once Marie had had a good day. Men had been relatively free and they had dropped coins in her open violin case while she played and danced for their pleasure. Nos she was exhausted, just wanting to ease her aching limbs. But she had promised herself a glance in at Erik's tent first.

As she moved towards the tent the strains of a violin floated through the air, drawing her closer, her interest well and truly captured. The closer she got the more seductive it seemed to be and then the voice, his voice singing over the violin. It was like liquid gold for the ears. It caught at her and lifted her over the last few yards to the entrance. She had only intended to stand at the back and watch. But his voice was like an invisible tread attached to her soul that tugged her right to the front of the crowd and watch in unabashed amazement. The sound was almost unholy in quality and many of the women were looking at him in a way to make their husbands nervous.

He had seen her, she was watching his eyes and they locked with hers. She was drowning, completely lost and willingly so. His eyes burned into hers, she could not have broken his gaze even had she wanted to. His voice had become like probing fingers, reaching deep inside her, tugging her towards a precipice. There was an almost satanic gleam in those eyes, daring her to do something, though what she had no idea nor did she care, at this point she would do anything those eyes commanded her. Shaking but rooted to the spot she had no voice to speak, unable to breath as the music reached a crescendo, pulling her deeper in the frightening torment of his soul. She had nearly reached out and then as the music died he had pulled off his mask.

Her eyes widened in horror and now understood why he hid his face. A memory long forgotten came back to her and she felt like she had been punched in the stomach. She staggered with the force of it.

"Dear God!" She whispered. Pity and horror flooded through her as she became aware of his eyes still on her. His expression was full of anger and malevolence, seemingly focused entirely on her. The crowds were already leaving the tent, murmuring as they left some dropping coins in the box.

"Get out." His voice was low but laden with anger and danger. He had turned away, pulling the mask back over to cover the horror.

"Erik....." she reached out as though to touch him but he turned and took one long step, looming over her, his eyes boring into her, hitting her will the full force of his hatred for the human race.

"I don't need your pity! Get out!" The menace was clear and she was suddenly incredibly frightened. Without another thought she turned tail and ran.

He cursed loudly and strongly as she ran off. It was probably for the best and it was partly for that reason that he had reacted in the way he had.

It had been such a shock to see her standing outside his tent. Even across the heads of the crowd he had seen her expression. It was that which had made the music style change from beautiful but melancholy to subtly seductive. His mother had once told a priest that visited them that no woman who heard his voice will die in a state of grace. He had not known what she meant by that, not till he had seen the gypsy dance had he truly grasped the full sense of those words and he had worked out how to purposefully work it into his music.

Now he knew it could get inside womans vulnerable mind and wave thoughts and doubts there, a talent he must now hold tight to but not use often. Such a power should be used only when it can be best used.

He had not intended for that feel to come out today, it had just happened. He had never seen such a reaction except for the night he had played for her. A connection to the music that reached right to the very soul, as though it were her life blood.

Never had he dreaded removing her mask more. But it had to be done, it was what so many came to see, if he did not he knew how easily a crowd could turn to a mob. And so he had tried to weave her deeper into the melody, almost hoping that if it lingered within her she wouldn't notice him so much. A futile hope when her gaze was locked on hiss so unswervingly on his. They say that the eyes are the windows to the soul and there had certainly been a torrent in those hypnotic green ones of hers. Their eyes had locked even after she saw his face and the hint of desire he had seen blossoming had been replaced suddenly with horror, pity and, more puzzling, a look of recognition.

Then they had been left alone, the others having filtered out. Suddenly he wanted to be alone, not to have to face her. He could not take her pity and so he had ordered her out, letting all her anger and hatred pour out into his voice and through his eyes. Let him be alone, to face the misery of this world as he had for so long.

He could not allow himself to get attached to the girl, and yet how could he not? He had intended to move on months ago and yet he was still here just because he felt he couldn't leave the girl. He wanted her, he knew that, as he had never wanted another woman in his life. But he wanted a woman to come to him of her own accord, not by command or seduction of his voice, nor even out of pity. He wanted what any man should be allowed to have, love. This he knew could never be and he would suffer no heartbreak again. Let the stone walls he had erected to protect his heart stand strong. For all he loved got broken and to see a thing he loved hurt was enough to send him tumbling into the blackness of depression that ever threatened to engulf him.


	4. Chapter 4

Marie stared out of her caravan window across the camp. They had moved again and had passed over the French border into Belgium. Most of the camp was still asleep, the hour still early and the grey dawn offering very little hope for a nice day ahead. They had only paused on the road and were due to continue on their way in a few hours, working their way north and then east till they crossed into Germany. From there they would be heading back down towards Spain in time for the festival at Verdu. She doubted she would be remaining with them for that long.

Her gaze drifted over the various carts and caravans till they came to rest on the one set a little apart from the others. It appeared she was not the only one already awake. Erik was fiddling with something, though she was too far away to be able to tell what it was. She had had very little contact with him since that fatal day the first time she saw his face. She had been back to his show a couple of times since, but this time retaining enough of her senses to remain at the back and sneak out with the rest of the crowd.

His face truly was a fearsome sight, skin stretched so tight over his skull it was possible to see the fine blue lines of veins. Burning amber eyes were set deep into their sockets but none of these things were the worst feature. That was the gaping black hole in the centre of his face where his nose should have been. What twisted freak of fate had created such a face, it was a miracle he had survived so long in this cruel world. And yet that hideous face hid the most talented mind that this world had to offer. He should have been rich and famous as a performer or composer and yet here he was playing in a gypsy camp for small unappreciative crowds. Marie growled at the injustice of the world, for anything that was not normal was shunned and cast aside, in the case of Erik put on show as a freak to be stared and laughed at as though he were only an animal.

The memories had flowed thick and fast as she visited his tent and saw his unmasked face. The view in front of her eyes wavered and suddenly she was looking back through the years at a different camp, bathed in the warm French summer sun. At the far end a tall man walked into the camp, a little girl with auburn hair and green eyes clinging to his neck. As they drew closer to the centre a grossly overweight man lumbered towards him, a smile revealing yellowed and missing teeth stretched across his grotesque face.

"Ah, my dear Demetrio! Welcome to our little community. And this must be Marie, say hello to your uncle Javert little one." He leered at the child in his brother-in-laws arms but she turned and buried her face in her fathers neck in fear.

"She is upset and frightened Javert, it has only been a few weeks."

"Of course, of course. Could not expect happiness from one so young just yet." He peered into Demetrio's haggered face. "You are tired brother, come I have arranged for a tent to be set up next to mine. Rest a while, I will call you when dinner is served."

Demetrio nodded gratefully and carried his daughter into the tent indicated. It had been a long few weeks. He was a gypsy that had fallen in love with a local woman in a small Spanish village when his community had camped there. His love had been strong enough to deny his travelling roots and settle in the village and marry her. A few years down the line had brought Marie into the world and that was when things had begun to go wrong. Catherina had never really recovered from the birth, she was very weak for years after. Finally one day she had caught a cold and that developed into the pneumonia that took her life. Marie was only 7 and the loss of her mother had hit her hard, she was his sunshine now, the very image of her mother.

Marie looked up at her father with tired eyes, she didn't want to be here, she wanted to be back at home in Spain. But her father had decided to leave and so she had gone with him, of course. She was scared of that big man that said he was her Uncle. She could not understand all that was going on but as long as she was with her father she knew she was safe.

They had been at the camp for only a few days when Marie had first seen him. A thin scrawny boy in a cage, a rough bag of sacking hiding his face. He was almost skeletal in appearance, the bones standing out clearly. He lifted his head and she had been frightened by those amber eyes, by the sadness in their depths, the worldliness in them even though he could only have been a couple of years older than her. His gaze started to dart around and there was a crowd gathering, a few locals and some of the gypsies. Javert squeezed through and entered the cage, the boy cowering away from him. His hand reached down and pulled the mask from his face. She had run then, run away from the horror of what she had seen, and that had been the last she saw of him. They had only stayed with that community for a few weeks more before hurrying on to the camp of her grandparents.

The scene disappeared, that boy had been Erik. She knew that now and could only imagine what horrors he had suffered at the hands of Javert. He had been a sick and twisted man, his soul had been like Erik's face. So that would make Erik only a few years her senior, and yet his eyes seemed so much older. What has the world done to you? She wondered to herself.

She was disturbed from her reverie by some jeering from outside. Only a few yards from where Erik had been a few moments earlier were a few children from the camp. Some were throwing stones at something in the grass, it took only a few moments to work out that the small bundle that was receiving the punishment was an animal and from the pitiful sounds she could hear every so often it was still alive.

With a shout of anger she rushed from her caravan, her bare feet flying over the grass towards the group. Her cries caught their attention and the look of rage on her face chased them off. She picked up a stone and threw it at their retreating backs, catching one on the arm. "Ha, now you know how it feels!'

She turned to look down at the creature that had taken the punishment. It was cat, little more than a kitten and a scrawny one at that, but no creature deserved such treatment. She bent down to stoke its matted fur and it turned its head to look up at her with big mournful green eyes. Tears sprang to her eyes at the pitiful sight. As gently as she could she lifted the small animal into her arms, where could she take it for help? No vet could help, she had no money to pay anyone, there was no one she could turn to.

The first thing that met her eyes when she stood was Erik looking down on her. "Can you help?"

Two pairs of green eyes gazed up at him mournfully. Damn it, he should just turn away but that wretched woman had such a look that he couldn't leave her. The tears that shone in her eyes pulling him in and making him go against his own better judgement. He took the creature from her and gave it a swift examination. He sighed deeply, there wasn't an awful lot he could do for it and it may not even last the next few days.

He had seen Marie watching him, or rather staring at him while in a world of her own. He would have given anything at that moment to know what was going through her mind. And then she had seen the children throwing stones at the kitten and her eyes had filled with such fire it took his breath away. And it amused him that she seemed to care so much for a scrawny creature.

"Why did you save it?" His voice broke the silence between them, surprising himself as much as her.

"Its defenceless, no creature should be treated like that, its just cruel."

"People are cruel. There is little kindness left in this world." His voice was dark, seemingly no longer talking of the creature he was tending for. His hands worked swiftly and yet with a gentleness that belied his darker moods and personality. It was that kindness that gave her the courage to do what it was she did next.

"I have a favour to ask of you Erik." His silence was hardly encouraging, for a moment it seemed as though he was going to open up a little to her but now he had retreated back into his shell. She ploughed on regardless, she had been thinking about this for several weeks. "I wish to make a deal with you. The weather is getting too cold for me to dance outside or for people to stand and watch. You play so beautifully, perhaps I could dance while you play?"


	5. Chapter 5

She waited with baited breath, it was a risky thing to ask him. Everyone knew he worked by himself and that he liked it that way. But no one really knew him nor had they really spoken to him, so how could they possibly know that was what he really wanted? Maybe he just needed someone to offer, to show an interest in him.

The slight mew from the cat still being tended by Erik was the only sign of his surprise. She wanted to dance while he played, had she lost her mind? Images rose unbidden to his mind, velvet skirts lifting as she spun revealing long toned legs. He could still see her dancing for him that fateful night several months ago. Every spin, every movement seemingly burnt into his mind. He dreamed of her at night, even through the day her face haunted him. The idea of her dancing in front of him, while he played was enough to drive him mad. And it would be in front of the public, dear God! It would be a disaster.

"No, absolutely not." His voice was low, almost a growl.

"But you don't even know what you would get in return." He looked down at her, green eyes wide in innocence though he could see mischief lurking in their depths.

Dear Lord, he didn't even want to ponder on that particular question for fear of where it would lead. "Nor do I wish to know child. You have my answer, I beg you will not broach the subject again." He handed the animal back into her arms abruptly and left her. His pace was quick though he was going nowhere in particular, just away. Away from the gaze he could feel burning into his back, away from those penetrating green eyes that seemed to be able to see beneath his mask, both physical and emotional. The wind whipped at him, cooling his burning skin. He couldn't shake her from his thoughts, nor did he particularly want to though he knew this to be a dangerous path he was treading.

Marie stared after him, deflated. The year had already passed into December, Christmas was only a few weeks away and it was steadily getting very cold. Too cold now to dance outside, people would not stand to watch or leave anything for her. Her clothes were ragged and she could not keep the cold out. Her shoes were full of holes and it was just as warm to go about bare foot as with those shoes at the moment, as long as it remained dry. She had hoped rather than expected an acceptance to her proposal, it would certainly have been more comfortable for her, but it was clearly not to be. For the next few months she would have to survive on what little she had been able to put by and beg, borrow or steal from those she could.

"You don't want to bother with the likes of him Marie, he is dangerous." The voice came from behind her, a young woman about her own age with the traditional dark coloring of the gypsies. Her hair was a mass of curls, held back from her face by a gold scarf tied by her left ear. Small gold studs decorated each lobe and her arms jangled with gold, each with some sort of meaning to the wearer.

"Why do you say that Nadya, when was the last time you spoke to him?" There was a hint of anger in her voice. Nadya was a good friend from this camp but she could be very shallow and overly superstitious, even for a gypsy.

Nadya leaned closer. "He's a murderer. And its said he talks to the spirits." Her voice a loud whisper.

"Don't be ridiculous Nadya, he isn't a murderer. Besides, you know I don't have any faith in these spirits you spend so much time trying to please." Her voice was harsh as she spoke, refusing to believe what she said.

"It's true!" Nadya was offended at her response. "When he was a child, he killed his keeper. Ask around if you don't believe me. His name was Javert. Everyone can here him talking at night, go past his tent and you can here his mutterings."

"What?"

"His keepers name was Javert, one day he escaped from him and killed him before running away."

"How do you know this?" Marie's voice had softened and lowered, more dangerous but with an undertone of shock.

"There was a man here, he recognised Erik from back then. Are you ok?"

Her face has drained of colour, surely she had heard wrong, or the man in the camp was wrong. Either way this could mean danger for Erik. "Go away Nadya. Go away and don't repeat this." She turned her back on her friend and went on back to her caravan, holding her newly acquired kitten close to her chest but carefully so as not to hurt her. Tears were pricking at her eyes as she went up the steps. She couldn't bring herself to deny the accusations, she knew Erik must have had a hand in the murder of her uncle. She could remember the day the news arrived that Javert had died, he had been found in a pool of his own blood, a knife stuck in his gullet. Little Erik had disappeared along with all of Javert's takings.

She looked out across the camp and met the eyes of Erik, the eyes of a murderer. She chewed the inside of her mouth, her fingers curling in the kittens fur. She turned her eyes away from the distressing sight and gazed down at the animal. "so little one, what am I going to call you?" She lifted it higher and peered into the green eyes, they looked back at her with a knowing look and a name came to her, "Reyna." Was it her imagination or did the whiskers twitch just a bit and was there approval in those feline eyes. No, she had spent too much time alone and day dreaming. "Reyna you shall be." She set her new pet on the foot of the bed where she could sleep in comfort.

It was still early but there was not really anyone out and about today, it was too cold to be dancing out anyway. With Christmas only a week or so away it was probably a time to start on her presents. She did this every year, every family would get a small gift from her. Since she couldn't afford to buy anything and to her it was tradition to make the gifts. It would be the first time she gave out gifts in this camp, she hadn't really felt the desire to since her father died. Now it was time to start again and she knew exactly where to start.

Two weeks passed in a flash and Marie's time was just so full of having to make up all the gifts for everyone. The cold bit through her thin layers as she went round the camp just before dawn while everyone was still abed. She carried a small bag full of her gifts that she slipped under the flaps of tents. Her light slippers barely made a sound over the grass as she moved through the camp till she had only one left.

Lifting the final one in her bag she moved towards the only tent without anything under the flap. All she had left was her gift for Erik.

She had had much time to think about what Nadya had said and all she had decided was that she had to speak to Erik about it herself. The problem with that was how to get him to talk about it. He was a very private person and all she could do was try to gain his trust. Oddly enough, the knowledge that he could well be a murderer did not make her want to run away or avoid him, she still wanted to know him because when he spoke to her she could see the kindness in him and also a sense of fear. Perhaps that was strange as most were afraid of him vice versa but it was definitely there.

She stooped by his tent and lowered her hand with the crudely wrapped item to place it beneath the tent flap. Then a pair of well polished shoes appeared in her line of vision, she should have known Erik would be up by now. She straightened and looked up at him, meeting his penetrating gaze. She immediately felt like she had been put on the back foot, his look was unnerving at the best of times but now he was looking at her with anger.

"What are you doing?" His voice was hard, suspicious, wanting to know what she was doing bending over by his tent so early in the morning.

"This is for you, I was just going to leave it by your tent." She nervously handed him what she held.

"What is it?"

She looked surprised, surely that was obvious. "Its a gift Erik."

"Why?"

Her brows lifted, this shouldn't be so hard to get through. "Its Christmas Erik, it is traditional to give gifts at Christmas." Her tone was almost sarcastic.

His gaze changed, to one of surprise. He took the gift from her as one in a dream. He was amazed, he had never received a gift before, in fact the only time he had ever asked for something it had been refused him. "Thank you. Please wait." This said as she had turned to leave him alone to open it.

She hovered near him, anxious to know that what she had given him would be accepted. For several seconds he looked down at what he held, amazed once again. In his hand was a drawing of himself playing the violin as he had the first time she had come to see his act.


End file.
